Too Bright To See, Too Loud To Hear
by x.Chromophobia.x
Summary: It was a mistake keeping that thing. I should have gotten rid of it the first time I saw the image of a handsome boy standing in the corner of my room. I knew I was in too deep. I couldn't let go of him now- I needed him. Jonah/Oc; Matt/Oc; JonahxOcXMa
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hello, everyone! This is another addition to the AHIC stories. I believe that Jonah and Matt do not get enough love. Its tragic, really. I mean, that was such an awesome movie. Ah, well. This is kind of based _after_ the movie. A year, actually. Not like the other ones, where the plot is changed. In the movie they said: 'the house was re-build and a family moved it', well, this is kind of like that. Don't worry, there _will_ be Jonah _and_Matt. If your wondering how, you'll have to wait until the next chapter.

Well, kudos to those who wrote a HIC (ha, ha! Hic!) fic! Hey, that rhymes!

**Too Bright To See, Too Loud To Hear**

**Chapter One: The Big Move**

_September 1st, 1988_.

An old, plum man stood in front of the newly built Aickman house. His long, tanned finger swiped across his upper lip. The man tugged on his belt, letting his eyes trail up the house. It looked like it had before- only newer. It was still a very unpleasant house. It ran off two families- the first of which burnt it down.

Even though the house had been re-build, somehow, the eerie that you were being watched was still there.

"Barnaby? You ready?", a voice called from the sewer.

Barnaby gave a shuttering glance at the house. "Yeah, mate. Just need to wait 'till the damn oaf gets 'ere."

The man in the sewer jumped up. "Damn. Bloody anorak! All 'e 'ad to do was send his mate to us. We would 'a fixed it and Bob's your uncle! Would a' been 'ome right now."

Barnaby chuckled, "he's a little off 'is trolley, 'e is."

The other man sat down on the curb. "Gonna be aggro, soon. I can see a barney comin'."

Barnaby nodded, "best be getting in there."

The man rose to his feet. His shaggy blond hair falling around his face. "Count 'a three, ya naff prat."

Barnaby got down, lowering himself down into the sewer. "S'no light."

The man waved his hand, "so what, ya blooming wanker."

"I can't see. I need a light." Barnaby shouted up.

The man tossed down a flashlight. "'Ere go."

Barnaby looked around the dirty old sewer. People were complaining that a young man was trapped inside. They alerted the police when they had seen him. In Barnaby's opinion, it was ruddy garbage. You would not be able to make out a figure of a person at the speed limit of sixty.

Of course, the reporters had been jumping at the chance to write something different about the Aickman house. Barnaby shoved his damp hair out of his eyes, peering all over. He wasn't really looking for a kid. Barnaby and Micheal were mostly there to tell their manager that they did something about it. It was all because they wanted extra pay.

"'Ello? Anyone down 'ere?", Barnaby called, flashing the light in the corner.

Barnaby took a cautious step forward. Jumping back as his covered foot stepped on something hard.

Curiosity etched on his face. "What's this, then?".

A small piece of a grayed object laid at the bottom of his foot. Barnaby gentility picked up the object. He held it to the light, a small crease beginning to form in between his eye brows. The object was a gray and very smooth. It was charred around the edges, and indented where the hole was.

It took Barnaby a moment before he realized that it was a piece of a skull. The skull was an eye that stretched over to the temple and was charred an inch below the eye socket. Barnaby shoved the bone into his pocket, and walked towards the ladder.

"Micheal, you'll never guess what I just found!".

* * *

_September 28th, 1988_.

This was our 'new beginning' as my mother had put it. We we currently moving from Georgia to Connecticut for my mother to begin her work as an author. Her publisher had insured her that a house was set up for us to move in. The house was large, Mrs. Levin said. Surrounded by a long road and trees. The perfect place for a single mother to write in privet.

My mother was hanging on to Mrs. Levin's every word. We packed up the very next day, and headed off to Connecticut. Mrs. Levin also warned us that a family stops by whenever they can. I didn't know why; but I felt as if Mrs. Levin was leaving something out. She told us the family had experienced something horrible, well, the son who was my age, had experienced it. Matthew Campbell, I believe his name was.

"Oh, look at the trees. I can't wait until we get there." My mother broke the two hour silence.

I blinked, "yeah. Pretty. Than again, so was Georgia."

My mother huffed, choosing to ignore my comment. "The move will be good for us."

I nodded absentmindedly. I didn't really care if it _was_ good for us- I just felt as if Mrs. Levin had left something important out. The description, the praise, the way she paid for everything- it was _too _perfect. I turned on the ancient radio. "Rites of Spring" flowed through the old car.

I laid my head down on the window, watching the trees blur by. It was a big change going from Georgia to Connecticut. My mother was an adapter, she could move to Alaska and not be affected. Where as I, I am more of a 'one-place' person.

I like settling down in _one _place and staying there.

"Julian, I know that this is a big change," my mother reasoned. "A huge one. I-I can sense that this is going to be a wonderful move. We'll be happy."

I nodded my head against the window. "Yeah, I guess."

I mother reached for my hand, "go to sleep. I'll wake you when we get there."

"Alright." I whispered, my eyes dropping heavily.

Before anything else could have been exchanged, I fell asleep.

**xx**

I woke up some-odd hours later. We had just entered into Connecticut, and my mother was beaming. I yawned loudly, glancing outside. It was dark outside. _Very _dark. I could not see a thing.

"When will we be there?", I questioned, rubbing my eyes.

My mother glanced at me quickly. "Very soon. In fact, I think this is it."

We pulled up to an odd looking house. It was a two story with many trees covering it. My mother drove into the rocky drive way. The house was very nice. It had a newly built charm to it, and looked ancient. It was a simple brown shade, and the porch was white. I couldn't see much else from the dark; but I did notice Mrs. Levin's small frame peering into the window.

My mother honked the horn, startling Mrs. Levin. "Would you like to stay in the car?".

"Yeah." I whispered.

My mother got out, leaving me sitting in the old car. I chewed on my bottom lip, watching my mother jog up to meet her publisher and 'friend'. I turned to the radio, watching it glow through the darkness. A soft tune played from the radio station- a station that was not the one mother and I were listening to. I pushed the old, rusted button on the ancient radio, turning It back to the other station.

My mother and Mrs. Levin waved me over. I pushed the door open roughly, accidentally cutting my finger on the old handle. I hissed lightly, raising the finger to my mouth. I pulled my finger away and walking towards the house. Mrs. Levin was unlocking the door. My mother gripped my hand as I walked up to her.

"Why don't you go look around for you bedroom? Upstairs, I believe." Mrs. Levin smiled, her eyes narrowing.

I nodded, "sure."

I walked through the house. It _did _look nice. The entrance to the house was painted white with a brown boarder. The kitchen was white with brown cupboards, the living room had light brown furniture with a small telly. I turned away from the living room, walking towards the stairs. Looking up, it resembled a square. Bedrooms were on each side. I believe it was a washroom on the right, with a bedroom and something else. And on the left, a two bedrooms and a washroom.

I walked into the first room. It had a nice blue rose print on the walls. A mirror facing the door, a simple white sheeted bed with a dresser next to the window. I walked out of the room, venturing across the hall to the next room on the left side. I walked into the first bedroom. It was painted with white walls, a bed in the corner near the square-cut window. A white dresser placed next to the bed, supporting a mirror and a lamp. A closet, with the doors open wide, was facing the bed. Down from the window, there was another white dresser, only it was taller than the other one. Beside the dresser was another closet with the doors closed and a full-body mirror attached.

"_This one is _**my **_room_." I declared, dropping my bag on the floor.

It was strange. I know for a fact that I wouldn't openly pick a room without checking out the others. For some reason, I just _wanted _to have _this _room.

"Honey, have you picked one yet?", My mother called from room across the hall.

Or rather, up the hall, down the wall with the big window, and down the hall once more.

I looked around the room once more. "Yes!".

"Okay, dear-y. We'll be bringing your things up tomorrow!", Mrs. Levin called.

I walked towards the bed, moving my hand around the rough, white covers. I could tell they were old and had been washed quite a bit. I sat down on the bed, looking around the room once more.

I defiantly think that this room picked _me._

**xx**

**A/N: That was the first chapter of TLTH,TBTS. Jonah's skull washed down the sewer, and the man found it. Uh-oh! The next chapter will be posted very soon, I reckon. Jonah will be coming very soon, too. Of course, Matt will be there first! (I reckon...?) Ahem, anyways. Er, this is the end, and please review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yay! I'm back with a _new _chapter. Sorry for the wait. Any who, school started, and I already had three Quizzes. School is terrible. But, on a more cheerier note, Jonah is here! Well, he's there, but you just wont know. **

**A cookie to anyone who can guess what that 'bone-thing' was. Or who...**

**Well, enjoy. **

**Too Bright To See, Too Loud To Hear**

**Chapter Two: The Gift**

September 29th, 1988.

When people sleep, it is usually to let the body recover; to let the body re-gain strength so that we were able to go on with our normal, everyday lives with a peaceful, well rested state of mind. The body _needed _sleep just as it needed food, water, and exercise. According to Doctor's and other 'health-nuts', if we did not get enough sleep, we were in a terrible mood. Snapping at anything because lack of rest and high irritation.

This may be completely unnecessary information or stuff that someone would simply wave off, claiming that they had already heard of such what-not. But it wasn't just 'what-not' or 'unnecessary information'- it was a _fact_. A terribly clichéd little fact that made people roll their eyes, wave their hand dismissively, and call upon the next 'entertainer'.

Because everyone knew that they needed sleep.

It was an a very much needed process for everyone.

Sleep deprivation made us cranky, our reflexes horrible and our judgment terribly inaccurate. Lack of sleep also opened our minds to almost anything. With out sleep, we could see _anything_. Which, I guess was the only explanation for why I was staring straight into electric blue eyes.

**Xx**

Night terrors were a common thing for me.

They started when I was a little kid and had progressed into something I would much rather avoid.

Cold sweat, vivid dreams, haunting memories the very next day, a pounding heart- is was everything that I had to bare with when I closed my eyes and let my mind fall into a slumber. It wasn't as bad as it sounded when, really. It was more-or-less (more actually) the memories. The vivid memories morphed into something so sinful my heart ache with the familiar sense of helplessness that washed over me.

I could never escape that feeling.

"Are you up?"

_How could I not be._..?

"Yeah."

My mother pushed the door open to the room -_my _room-. "I went shopping earlier."

She walked up to my bed, sitting down at the end.

I sat up as she sat down.

"I bought you something. The store lady said that it was an actual bone- of course they would try to tell you that they had a robe _Jesus_ wore just to get you to buy one of their products."

I pushed the covers away from my body.

"True."

A sick sense of curiosity gripped at me.

"Is it a _real_ bone?"

My mother shook her head, sending long blond locks tumbling down her back. Her silent laughter shook the bed.

"Of course _not_! Would I honestly buy something_ like a bone_?"

Yes.

She would.

"No."

My mother clasped her hands together. "Wonderful." She reached over for her bag, rummaging through it quickly.

I yawned loudly.

My mother was a struggling author, trying to publish her twisted Romance books. She once told me that, '_the world is a black and ruthless as love. Which is why we must give our hearts and souls away to knowledge_.' From then on, her twisted version of 'love', was simply a tragic story where in the end, _everyone_ dies.

Her strange philosophy had kept me away from the undeniable heartbreaks which she warned me about. That, and when I was only ten, I found a written copy of her book: **Loveless Awaiting**-which was actually a 'rape is the only love' plot. Needless to say, I stayed _far_ away from the opposite sex.

"_...As ruthless as a starving Tiger, the man ripped every shred of dignity and innocents the young woman had. Leaving her in a cold, Comatose-like state. The man was tearing her apart, much like _all_ men do when confronted with the undeniable thirst and lust for a woman- she did not even have the chance to turn into the beautifully innocent young woman she always dreamed she would be_..."

Although, my young mind could not decode the words in elegant scrip, I knew it surfaced around a man who 'ripped' a young girl apart. I could picture it so vividly in my mind; a young girl with black hair being torn apart by a dark figure. The girl turned; it was me.

"...You would believe the price on _paper_! That store is _wonderful_. Creepy, but wonderful. Are you going to open it?"

I glanced down at the small package in my lap. The wrapping paper- paper bag brown, was really unnecessary. My mother had already told me what it was.

...Or maybe it was too fragile and needed to be wrapped up.

Hesitantly, I pulled the package apart.

"Trust me, you'll love it!", my mother gushed.

I pulled out a jagged shaped...thing. It was slightly charred around the edges, with a gaping hole near the center. The object itself was a dark gray, and very smooth. I pulled the object closer to inspect. It gave off an odd sort of feeling to it.

Something in my gut told me to crush the object and throw it away, but I did nothing.

I _couldn't _do anything.

There was a strange chill that entered the room, and oddly enough, I found myself relaxing. I felt completely at ease.

"Oh! I almost forgot! The old owner of the house are coming over for dinner tonight."

I dropped the object on my bed, glaring at it strangely.

"I don't see why they would want to go back to the house they sold." I answered, trying to take my gaze away from the object.

My mother rolled her eyes. "The old owners- the ones who burnt the house down-, are coming. They wanted to see how everything was. Personally, I found Sarah Campbell sounded reluctant to come here." She mused.

I pulled the covers over the object, regretting my decision of accepting it.

The object was strange. It was unlike anything that I have felt before- rough, smooth, evil, and good. As cliché as it sounded- I truly believed that there was something more to the object than what was said.

My mother patted the bed. "Up, up. Its nearing noon. I made lunch."

I stood up, ignoring the strange chill that suddenly entered the room. I passed it off quickly as the air conditioner. Hopefully, I was somehow right about the chill being involved with the air, but I was a very paranoid child. I glanced back into the room, shivering at the cold.

There was something wrong with that room.

**A/N: Terrible ending. Very clichéd. Just review. T.T**


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